San Andreas

by George Wolf

San Andreas is a film made with the utmost commitment to artistic vision. It is the work of a director fully invested in the task at hand, and confident enough to never waver from the mission. Director Brad Peyton knows what he wants and explores every opportunity to get it in on screen as often as possible.

He wants cleavage.

And if there’s time, some nifty earthquake effects.

He gets both, along with the gun show that is Dwayne Johnson starring as Ray Gaines, an LA firefighter who specializes in helicopter rescue. Ray’s already dealing with his daughter Blake’s (Alexandra Daddario) plan to move away, when he learns his soon-to-be ex-wife Emma (Carla Gugino) is moving in with her uber-rich, ultra douchy new boyfriend Daniel (Ioan Ruffud).

So Ray’s feeling blue, and as he drives away from Emma we see her framed squarely in his rear view mirror. That’s the level of subtlety you can expect from San Andreas:  zero.

Then the big quake hits, and there’s no more time for talk. Ray has to jump into the role of superhero, rescuing Emma from the top of a crumbling LA high rise, and then heading off to go get their daughter in San Francisco. We know this from the number of times one of them looks at the other, pauses, and says, “Let’s go get our daughter!”

The quake is presented in often spectacular fashion, and the effect it has on the buttons of Gugino’s blouse is not ignored, either. Of course, that’s only after she’s spent the required amount of time running in a super tight tank top.

From the opening (and admittedly effective) sequence showing a young girl rescued from a wrecked car, straight through to the rubble-strewn, flag waving finale, nearly every female with a speaking role (and Daddario especially) wears a tight, often wet shirt while being framed at an angle high enough for optimal oogling. Sure, the tight tank is old hat for PG-13 jollies, but even Michael Bay might find this excessive.

Johnson has become a charismatic star, Gugino is always a treat, and the film should get some credit for actually pairing two age-appropriate leads. Paul Giamatti even shows up as a seismologist, but that ultimately just solidifies the point that no amount of acting talent can raise San Andreas much above the mindless threshold of blowing stuff up and catcalling the babes.

Tomorrowland

by George Wolf

Long before the credits roll, Tomorrowland will have you craving a theme park turkey leg and planning a meet up at Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.

To be fair, it’s hardly the first time Disney has gone meta at the multiplex. They’ve had recent success with films based on their rides, and films based on their films. Now they’re moved on to an entire section of the Magic Kingdom, so why does it feel like you never stop standing in line?

Mostly, because there’s so much talk and little action.

George Clooney brings his considerable star power to the role of Frank, a former boy genius who was accepted into the other-worldly community of “Tomorrowland” in 1964. Twenty years later, he was exiled, apparently for inventing something that opened an unwelcome Pandora’s Box.

Now, in present day, Frank is convinced to make a return trip after receiving a surprise visit from Casey (Britt Robertson, mugging frequently), a scientifically-gifted teenager who just might be the key to saving the future.

That’s the short version. There are plenty more convolutions, conversations and explanations involved that only mute the magic the film so desperately seeks.

Director/co-writer Brad Bird made his name in animation (The Iron Giant/The Incredibles), but the considerable visual flair he brought to Mission Impossible: Ghost Protocol whet appetites for more live action ventures. Tomorrowland does sport plenty of cool-looking jet packs and rocket ships to-ing and fro-ing, but the film’s pace is slowed to a crawl from the heavy load of exposition. The fun just never has a chance to get airborne.

That’s not the only irony. Tomorrowland‘s message that children are our future is obvious and repetitive, but most likely lost on kids themselves. The little ones won’t keep up and the teens will roll their eyes at the pandering. Everybody else will just fight the boredom.

Far from the Madding Crowd

by George Wolf

Did we need another film adaptation of Far from the Madding Crowd? Despite its status as a romantic classic, Thomas Hardy’s 1874 novel travels some tedious, predictable ground. The last big screen version followed suit but, to be fair, that was in the late 60s. Can a skillful director, an insightful writer and a sublime cast blow the dust off after nearly five decades?

Um, yes.

It starts at the top, with the effortlessly good Carey Mulligan as independent heroine Bathsheba Everdene, who inherits her uncle’s vast estate in the English countryside. She attracts admirers on both extremes of society, but rebuffs marriage proposals from poor, earnest sheep herder Gabriel Oak (Matthias Schoenaerts) and the village’s most eligible bachelor, wealthy William Boldwood (Michael Sheen).

Bathsheba’s passions are finally stirred by the arrogantly douchy Sgt. Troy (Tom Sturridge) but not long after their impetuous marriage, regret comes calling.

It’s an extremely old fashioned love triangle, pared down considerably by director Thomas Vinterberg and screenwriter David Nicholls. Nicholls has experience adapting classics such as Great Expectations and Tess of the D’Ubervilles, and sharp instincts for cutting fat. The story is leaner, with less chance to bog down in melodrama.

Vinterberg, who helmed the gripping drama The Hunt in 2012, delivers sweeping, gorgeous landscapes befitting such a period piece, and frames his able actors with frequent closeups that never go to waste.

Mulligan gives Bathsheba the layers needed to make her human, and Schoenaerts (Rust and Bone) makes Gabriel’s strong, silent act easy to root for. But it’s Sheen, even with limited screen time, who steals the show, wringing Boldwood’s repressed emotion from every pore.

Whatever the motivation for revisiting this old standard, Far from the Madding Crowd is a testament to sheer talent uplifting the source material. It may not be most memorable present on the table, but these gift wrappers sure make a good impression.